Lights On the Tree
by Kampe
Summary: A collection of oneshots based in the Doctor Who universe. A range of different ideas will be added when inspiration strikes, prompts are welcome. Currently includes: Dark!Doctor. Sarah Jane Smith.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Doctor Who, _the BBC does, nor do I take credit for the characters.**

**I had so many ideas running about in my head and on paper, that I thought it was time I did something with them. This is a collection of one-shots that I will update sporadically. I you want to, feel free to suggest something.**

**Thanks for reading, following, favouriting or reviewing. Enjoy!**

**Run Away**

**_Rating: T_  
**_**Summary: The Doctor's madness will take over eventually, and it's all he can do to tell others to run.**_

The Doctor spent far too much time alone. His companions often slept, leaving him to think. It was then that he was forced to listen to his mind for entertainment, and his mind was not something that should be relied upon. It was a twisted and warped thing, with dark thoughts and little remorse. He was insane. Not the good kind of insanity that he pretended to be as he ran around cheerful and naïve. Nor was he the other, more popular kind. He was not a muttering man trapped on the side-lines of life. He was not the other kinds, the many types the doctors defined as insane. He was fully aware of his senses, fully in control of his own mind, fully in charge of his limbs.

He was the last kind, the one defined as 'a lost cause'. He had been lost since the day he stared into the Untempered Schism. He was eight years old and soon to be a murderer, yet he had had his innocence. Then came that fateful day when his life was stolen and his light with it.

He had once told Martha about the three possibilities that stemmed from the Time-Vortex. Some were inspired by its majesty. Some ran from what it told them. Some were driven insane by all that it held. He had told her that the Master became insane when he stared into the Untempered Schism as Koschei Oakdown. Meanwhile, the Doctor said _'Run'_.

He was not telling them to run with him. The Doctor was telling them to run from him. He told them to run as fast as they could and to never look back. The Master was not driven insane by the expanse of the Time-Vortex. No, he was not. The Master saw what could be, and he ran. After, many, many years he halted. The Master stopped running and he turned around to face his fears. The Drums drove the Master insane; they caught up to him when he faced the Doctor. His worst nightmare, his darkest fear, and his best friend became his arch-enemy.

The Doctor was pushed to insanity by the Vortex, so he ran out of terror. The Doctor took his name as a promise to himself. The promise was to help others fight their darkness, yet silently he vowed to never let his own insanity out to play. He travelled for centuries, which soon became millennia; he saw the wonders of creation and was inspired to protect it. He would not let himself destroy the perfection that he saw, the miracles that he found.

Slowly, slowly, the Doctor put himself back together. The glue was the beauty he saw, the brilliant people he met. Then she left, his granddaughter left. It was for the better, she could be happy, married, and away from him. However, that was when the glue first began to melt. So he took more companions, he made more friends. They kept him together for a while, and then broke him even more when they left. Soon he was on his knees, scraping the pieces of his sanity together, blowing on the dying coals of his hope.

Finally there was war, the Last Great Time War. He wiped them out, his own people, to save the universe. That was the day the Doctor realised something, he would kill a child to save everyone else. One life over many others was not an option, not anymore. He was a changed man, full of fire, ice and hatred. He was no doctor; he was a warrior without a war. He put the mask back on, hid the broken shards behind a cleverly crafted façade. Even his wife did not care to look behind it.

He was alone in his insanity, lost in his night. Some days he would mutter dark thoughts to himself, anger and laughter in his voice. Other days he would snarl or scream. The insanity forced its way out and the darkness could not be illuminated by any light.

That was why the Doctor did not dwell in his mind.

He would murder a child to save lives, and he would enjoy it.


	2. Chapter 2

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**Fear Conquered**

**_Rating: K+  
Summary: The fears never left the hotel because they could not, even when they were conquered. The clown was stuck there, the hotel was wrong. Sarah Jane Smith will not die today._**

The woman stalked through the hotel, nervously glancing around for threats. Her clothes were fashionable but worn. Her pink blouse, covered by a brown leather jacket, was showing age and experience. Her coffee-coloured trousers hugged her legs, showing small portions of skin. She was aware that her clothes might soon be replaced by a crisp shirt and multi-coloured tie. She wondered, for a moment, what she would find behind her door. Would it be her first love rejecting her? Or Earth's consumption by aliens? She was inclined to believe that it would be her 'team' dying. They meant the world to her, and she might never see them again.

The woman focused her mind, determined to return to her peculiar family. They still needed guidance and she was not going to abandon them to the inevitable. A small voice reminded her that that was what the others had thought before they were taken. She was different though, she would survive this. She did not believe it, she knew it. Shaking her head firmly so that her brown bob swayed, she expelled all nonsense thoughts and focused on her goal.

Getting out.

It was easier said than done. There had been five of them originally, the other four were male. Three, not including herself, had been humans while the fourth was a Slitheen. Draefend Syl-Fum Behof-Storm Slitheen (Hunter of Profit-Storm Slitheen) had fought the humans verbally all the way. They had established a tentative truce with her help, but then one of the men had taken control. The others had been picked off one-by-one. Samuel was the first to go, his fear being his P.E. teacher. Alex was the second, he was terrified of death. Draefend was the third, his fear was the Doctor. The leader, Felix, had been the only other left and he was terrified of trains.

The woman was still searching, confident that finding her room was the only way out. She did not want to have to praise the beast. After Felix she had discovered a flaw, if you conquered your fear you were of no use. She just hoped that the hotel would let her out once she was useless.

She almost _knew _it would. She did not believe, believing never helped anyone.

Instead she knew.

Then she felt it, a psychic tug that urged her forward. The doorknob was suddenly at her fingertips. The golden plaque simply read 306, that insignificant number urging her on. Almost unconsciously her hand slipped onto the brass in front of it. Taking a deep breath she twisted the handle and pushed the white door open. With a nervous gasp, she stepped in and focused on the figure in front of her.

Its face was a stark white with huge, painted lips and black eyelashes. A giant, fluffy, crimson nose protruded from his face. A ridiculously hued suit covered it with an orange carnation in its lapel. Large, crimson shoes graced its feet, attempting to make it look comical. Its dull, brown hair was curly and reached its ears. In its white-gloved hands it clutched a string connected to a ruby balloon. Its frown made it look like a creepy, down-trodden, toddler.

The woman grinned, not bothering to close the door as she turned her back on the clown.

A bright-light filled her vision when she stalked out of the room. Her mouth was still fixed as a smirk when she landed in her attic. Multiple squeals of delight greeted the woman as she materialized. Taking a seat, the woman began to tell her story, ending on a triumphant note.

See, Sarah Jane Smith had long since conquered her fear. All she had needed, in the end, were her friends to help her.

Far away, in a little blue box, a man flew on. He would soon realise his fear, but he would never let his friends see.

Maybe that was his failing.

Maybe if they saw it, they would leave him to run.

It did not matter, though, because this is not is story, and he will never tell.


End file.
